A Reasonable Amount of Trouble
by Le Penguin
Summary: Sorey is an experienced member of the supernatural detective division, the Shepherds, but is a fresh face to the city squad when an unexpected transfer lands him in Lastonbell. Things tend to get complicated when you realize that hot hookup from the bar last night is now your new partner on the force. (Sorey/Mikleo, Detective AU)
1. The Best Goodbyes Are Short

Lastonbell wasn't a bad assignment.

A major metro center, it was a city known for the arts, theater, and music – and all the accompanying drama that came with it. A writer, wretched with rejection letters, going hellion in the streets; a seraph, strung out on the torrid emotions of starving artists, going missing and turning up a week later rampaging through the commercial district wearing scales. Organized crime rings, trafficking drugs and bodies both, occasionally facing off against each other in the streets.

Sure, it didn't have the glitz and glamor of Pendrago. But Sorey had gotten too comfortable with the detective beat in Ladylake, and welcomed the change of scenery – but mostly he welcomed the change in local attractions and historical points of interest. When he wasn't being wined and dined (more like boozed and burgered) by his local friends as part of his farewell festivities, he was scrolling through Lastonbell food and travel blogs and devouring every book about the city's lengthy history he could get his hands on. These research efforts had a predictable effect on Sorey's packing efforts, and on the eve of his big move, he had to sheepishly call in a favor to Rose to enlist her help in getting the remainder of his apartment into boxes.

("I helped you and Alisha move into your place," Sorey pointed out in response to Rose's endless griping, over the sounds of packing tape and clattering plates.

"I bought you pizza and beer!" Rose countered. "That debt was paid in full! Man, how many books do you have!? You owe me a night bar-crawling in Lastonbell for this. While I wear a crown. And you're carrying me on one of those fancy back carriage thingies."

"Palanquin," Sorey informed her.

"Gesundheit," Rose blessed him.)

Now that he was in Lastonbell, there was the matter of getting his apartment _out_ of the boxes. Sorey flopped down heavily on one of the few open spots on his couch, and brought out his phone. He'd had a long day, and maybe it was time for him to make use of his extensive city research to check out some of the local bars.

He scrolled through some of the blog posts he had bookmarked, and landed on a name – The Katz Pajamas. It looked way…louder than the bars he tended to frequent. And definitely had a certain vibe to it. A certain vibe that Sorey, stressed and lonely in this big new city, could maybe appreciate tonight.

Sorey didn't usually go for casual encounters, much less one-night stands. Even if someone checked all his boxes for physical attraction, he just generally wasn't interested in anonymous sex with someone he barely knew. There was also the matter of common ground – normal "pickup talk" conversation bored Sorey to tears, and he wasn't naïve enough to think that most people (or even some people, or a few people) would be interested in what archaeology journals he was reading, or wanted to rant with him about that badly-researched documentary he caught on Netflix the night before.

But there was always an exception to be had, wasn't there? Especially as a stranger in a strange land.

Which sums up how Sorey wound up with his cock buried hilt-deep inside a guy he picked up at the bar.

His name was Mikleo, and he was a regular at the club, had great taste in books, and was absolutely stunning. He was tall; almost a head taller than Sorey, who was no slouch himself. He had a slim build; light enough for Sorey to pick up and throw onto his bed with ease, with slender wrists just the right size for Sorey's hands to wrap around. He had legs for days; they were previously showcased in a pair of tight jeans, and were currently wrapped around Sorey's waist. His eyes were a deep and fascinating violet, his hair was long and wavy white, frosted with pale aquamarine streaks, and – Sorey noted, as he slid a hand through it, prompting Mikleo to damn near purr at the feeling – was just about the softest thing he'd ever felt. Sorey had never gotten with a seraph before, and with how this encounter was going, he wondered why the hell that was.

The second he stepped into the club and had his eyes adjust to the low light, he'd spotted Mikleo at the bar, chatting with the bartender like an old friend. Dumbstruck with how gorgeous he looked in the colored lights and running on fumes and exhausted idiot courage after his long day of moving, Sorey slid up to him in a neighboring seat, and struck up a conversation. About five minutes in, Mikleo was laughing at Sorey's dumb pickup lines in Ancient Avarost and buying him a drink to welcome him to the city, and Sorey realized that this was the best decision he'd made all day. About ten minutes in, as they crowed together about shitty movie adaptations of the restoration period, Sorey realized this was the best decision he'd made all week. About an hour in, as they ground on each other in the back of a taxi making its way back to Sorey's place, Sorey realized that he really should have tried harder to unpack, and was about to hook up with a beautiful stranger amidst a maze of cardboard boxes. For his part, Mikleo almost seemed charmed by it all – or at least was too polite to do more than laugh as Sorey scooped him up and carried him bravely through the debris and into his bedroom to ravish him.

Sorey hadn't really gotten much action since his last relationship about six months back, but managed to last longer than he thought he would with such a mind-blowingly sexy partner. From the look on Mikleo's face as Sorey carefully pulled out of him, he'd given Mikleo a great ride as well – which was good, as Sorey wanted to at least make Mikleo's efforts in putting up with his cardboard kingdom worthwhile. Sorey removed his condom and wrapped it in a tissue, and leaned in to kiss Mikleo deeply before he got up to clean up in the bathroom. The smile Mikleo gave to him in return just about killed his desire to leave the bed. Sorey leaned back in for another kiss.

Then another.

Then another.

In the end, Sorey wound up climbing Mikleo like a tree one more time before they collapsed into unconsciousness. The next morning, he wished he had more to offer his houseguest hottie than coffee and a muffin from the chain across the street, but Mikleo took the gift with the same good grace that he put up with Sorey's bad jokes last night. Sorey really, really wanted to ask him to hang around while he went off to check in at his new station, but couldn't justify asking him to; not with his apartment…the way it was. Mikleo bid him good luck and farewell, sweeping that silky hair of his over one shoulder as he bent down for a last, long kiss. Belatedly, as he creaked his way out of the taxi and into the station, his whole body aching from moving strain and from screwing Mikleo like his life depended on it, he realized that he hadn't asked for Mikleo's number. Sorey's heart twisted a bit with disappointment.

It was the appeal of one-night stands, he supposed. You meet a gorgeous, brilliant guy, hump his brains out, and then never see him again. No strings. No expectations. Nothing but fun, pleasure, and the lingering memory of Mikleo's smile burning in his brain like embers.

Sorey hung around the station for a little while, getting his new hire paperwork and greetings out of the way – he had been hoping to meet his new partner, but had been told he was taking a long weekend and would probably be next in the coming week. Sorey supposed it was a blessing in disguise. He was still more than a little cranky from exhaustion, more than a little homesick for Ladylake, and more than a little hung up on a hookup that he had no right to be hung up on. He probably wasn't in much of a state to be making good impressions on coworkers.

As he headed out for the day, his shoulder devil whispered to him to go back to The Katz Pajamas. Great plan, that – nurse drinks for a few hours, lurk like a creep, and skulk off into the night when Mikleo inevitably didn't show. His shoulder angel told him to go to the grocery store, pick up some real food, and spend the night and the rest of the weekend unpacking. Sorey hung his head, listened to his shoulder angel's admonitions, and went to pick up some kitchen supplies.

Well, the joke was on his shoulder angel, because he ran into Mikleo again at the store.

Sorey fell too hard, too fast in his relationships. Thus, he was so bad at one-night stands. So horribly bad. He saw this character flaw of his and tried to keep himself under control, but oh, his heart was singing as he saw Mikleo blinking at him across the freezer section. He looked just as beautiful under the florescent grocery store lights, dressed in a comfy oversized sweater over a button-up, as he did in the neon club dressed in skintight pants and a black choker.

What, exactly, was hookup etiquette in a situation such as this? Was it jogging over to where Mikleo was looking at ice cream bars, striking up a conversation with him, and after another half-hour of wonderful conversation, inviting him back to his cardboard kingdom? Was it popping a boner in the middle of the store like a teenager when Mikleo smirked at him and picked up a 24-pack of condoms from the shelf, and tossed it into his basket next to the ice cream?

This, in fact, was probably not hookup etiquette in any sense of the word. But it netted Sorey another night with Mikleo.

And then a whole day with him, lounging in bed, eating Mikleo's ice cream bars as they watched documentaries together, idly discussing and debating, Sorey's head in Mikleo's lap, trying not to purr as Mikleo pet his hair.

They didn't leave bed that whole weekend, and Sorey got zero unpacking done, and kind of felt like his dick was going to fall off from using it to nail Mikleo in every position he could. But by god, Sorey didn't regret a single moment of any of it. As he and Mikleo finally said their farewells to each other early Monday morning, Sorey felt like he was walking on air. Mikleo still had to get back to his place, change, and head off to work, all with Sorey's hickies marking up his neck, but Sorey now had his number tucked safely into his phone, and a sly little suggestion from Mikleo that they could meet up again sometime if Sorey ever got bored. Sorey dreamily stared at his contact in his phone as the subway rumbled toward the station, his thoughts full of the books he wanted to loan to him, the museums he wanted to visit with him, the things he wanted to keep doing to that firm, tight little ass of his.

The whole weekend combined made it really awkward when the station chief introduced Sorey to his partner on the Shepherd detective force, the seraph specialist Mikleo.

So, he had had a one-night stand, or rather a one-weekend ice cream-and-debauchery fest, with his now-coworker. Sorey knew that dating at work was bad news, and constantly had to overhear gossip on the latest drama about office hookups in the break room at his old station in Ladylake. He'd thought he was above it all, but alas – karma was a bitch, and it was paying him back by banishing him to the realm of sexual limbo. What had seemed like a sure thing, a great way to start off his life in a new city, now seemed too awkward to even consider as they rolled out in a squad car to investigate their first case.

Sorey couldn't bear the silence any longer.

"Listen. I am _so_ sorry I didn't mention where I was going to be working, it's just, some people get on edge when I say I'm on the force, so I didn't really want to-"

"It's fine," Mikleo said, shortly. "Just – don't worry about it."

Sorey managed to stay silent for a few minutes. He did not manage to not worry about it.

"It's just, we're going to be working together now, and I had such a great time, I really did, and I don't want to make things awkward between us-"

"We're here," Mikleo informed him. He threw the car into park and unbuckled himself, trying and failing not to look at the wretched look on Sorey's face. "…listen. I had a great time too, and I don't blame you for anything. But let's just focus on the case for now, okay?"

"Yeah…yeah," Sorey agreed.

The case itself was a pretty standard one. There had been a rash of hellionizations in the area, all producing a certain kind of hellion – goblins, who had an appetite for theft and property vandalism, and also illegal street racing. As was covered in basic Shepherd training, certain types of malevolence tended to create specific breeds of hellion. Goblin hellions grew from turbulent greed and raw gluttony, and the number of cases plus the profile of the area the cases were centered in pointed toward drug-related activity. Lastonbell was a big city, and big cities had drug trafficking problems. And drug trafficking problems led to goblin street races.

"We've been making some arrests in the area recently," Mikleo explained. "All straightforward purify-and-process. Some have had intel on mob activity in the area, but nothing our undercover informants haven't already gotten us. We're closing in on the distributors who are likely operating in the area, but we'll have to monitor to make sure more don't move in when we take down the current big dogs."

Nothing Sorey hadn't already seen in Ladylake. He knew the ins and outs of Ladylake's streets and back alleys better though, and that made it way easier to break up these goblin races when they went down. He also hadn't fucked his investigative partner in Ladylake. Lots of new things to consider in his new home.

A commotion interrupted that line of thought – the telltale hooting, hollering, clattering wheels, and cannonball fire of a goblin street race. At the sight of the squad car, they abruptly changed routes down an alleyway. Mikleo smirked and jumped out of the car.

"Right on time," he said. "Hope you're up for a chase."

"You're on," Sorey replied, giving him a cheeky little grin.

Mikleo took off like a shot, his long legs and knowledge of the area giving him a solid lead on Sorey. Sorey felt his heart flutter, and not just because of the thrill of the chase. He was so, so bad at hookups.

Well, the good news was that they caught the speed demons, and the purification process went smoothly. No surprises there – a bunch of petty street punks were no match for Sorey's knack for purification; the silver flames leaping from his blade and streaking across the ground to burn the taint from their flesh, mind, and souls. He'd been informed his partner was the sharpest shot in the precinct, and he'd lived up to the reputation already; shooting out a wheel axel from one racer, sending him careening into another, setting off a panic among the riders that allowed Sorey to commandeer one of the perps' carts and ride it, flaming sword held high, rattling and clattering through the streets, his own mighty chariot of justice.

It got results. A crew of beat cops was helping them load the purified perps into a transport car, and a tow truck was on its way to pick up the wrecked carts. That being said, it was clear Mikleo was furious with him about the whole chariot of justice thing, and he wouldn't even look at Sorey as he read off his report over the radio.

"A half dozen gobblecarters in the slammer in one shot," one of the beat cops said, admiring. He offered a paw to Sorey to shake. "Not bad for a rookie! Put 'er there, champ."

"Hey, I graduated academy five years ago. You're looking at a seasoned pro, here," Sorey said. However, he knelt to accept the handshake. "This isn't even my biggest haul."

"You tryin' to impress me or your boyfriend there?" laughed the cop. Mikleo continued to ignore them both. "Don't look like he's swayed. Maybe bring in some werewolf pelts and he'll let you take him out on the town."

Sorey rumpled the cop's beret until his paws came up to swipe at him.

"'ey! Knock that off or I'll report you to HR. Don't think you special ops bozos get the privilege to touch this fine headgear."

Leaving the beat cops to coordinate cleanup and transport, Mikleo and Sorey began to make their way back to where they parked the car. Sorey scratched his neck, wincing at Mikleo's silent treatment.

"…I'll take care of the paperwork?" Sorey offered.

"I'm sure Captain Strelka will be _ecstatic_ to read it," Mikleo said dryly. "'Dear Captain, today I nearly made my partner shoot me by bowling into his line of fire, riding atop essential evidence, streaking through the streets like a flaming comet.'"

"You're a flaming comet," retorted Sorey. Mikleo was confused into silence, mouth twisting into a pout, one eyebrow arching. It would be a problem if his partner was this cute, and this easy to rile up. It would be a _big_ problem.

They slid into the squad car, and Sorey yawned and stretched, priding himself on his efforts to not flop one arm around Mikleo's shoulders.

"But it's not a bad haul for my first day, you've got to admit," Sorey said. "Can I drive?"

"Not a chance," Mikleo said, turning on the engine without missing a beat.

Sorey's eyes were bright with exhilaration. "I think, as my senior, you've gotta take it upon yourself to familiarize me with the city. I need to get the lay of the land, you know? Why don't we go out to the belltower tonight; I've always wanted to see it in person."

Mikleo scoffed. "The belltower? Sure, if you want people to think you're a tourist."

"Well," Sorey drawled. "Would a Lastonbell native instead prefer to be taken out to the exhibition on Avarost-era sculpture at the Historical Art Center?"

"No, a native would more prefer to hit the bar district and then heckle the pretentious performance artists in the college town. But I on the other hand have been meaning to see that exhibit anyway." Mikleo got them on the road to the station. "As long as it's not too late when you're finished with your paperwork back at the station, you can tag along, I guess. And if you can pass a city map test."

Sorey pumped his fist. Lucky for him, he'd always been good at geography.


	2. The Seven-Year Itch

Sorey was settling in to Lastonbell well, he thought. He had been spending the last two weeks admiring local historical sites, checking out museums and art galleries, and sampling local cuisine, and was getting to know his coworkers a little bit better both in the office and out. He missed his teammates from Ladylake, but Sorey was the friendly sort, and knew that it was only a matter of time before he was just as close with his new team as he was with his old.

That being said, there was a certain teammate he'd love to get closer to sooner rather than later. But the problem was, Sorey supposed, that he'd gotten close to him a bit too Sooner, making the Later a lot more complicated. Sorey snuck a sneaky peek at Mikleo, who was seated next to him, and tried to catch his eye. Mikleo continued to stare straight ahead at the whiteboard at the head of the room, though Sorey saw him jump a bit when Sorey poked him in the side. Small victories. Mikleo glowered at him, and smacked him away; Sorey grinned and gleefully escalated the tickle duel. Flirting with coworkers might be an awful idea, but it had its perks when it came to spicing up boring meetings.

"Excuse me! Detective Sorey! Detective Mikleo!"

Sorey winced and ceased all tickle activity, looking up a bit sheepishly at the source of the admonishment. Maybe he shouldn't have been screwing around in a department meeting when he was still a fresh face in the building. Detective Eleanor had raised herself to her unimpressive stature, and was fully fluffed up and ready to unleash a lecture.

"While it is wonderful to see that you are already bonding with your new partner-"

Another one of his coworkers, Detective Zaveid, burst into giggles at the phrasing. Sorey didn't know how Zaveid found out about his and Mikleo's...pre-existing bonding encounter(s), but he did seem to have ears and eyes everywhere in the city. Or maybe Sorey had had a small slip of the tongue when Zaveid took him out for drinks. Or maybe Zaveid was crawling around in the office air ducts to spy on him and Mikleo while they worked. The latter scenario would be entirely unsurprising. Sorey had very quickly found out that, much like Sorey's motorcycle needed fuel, or a flower needed sun, Zaveid needed to consume a constant stream of gossip or he would instantly fall completely dead to the pavement. Eleanor frowned at him and fluffed herself up further to increase her lecturing power level.

"-and while it is also wonderful to see senior members of the department taking an interest in helping you acclimate-"

"Who's a senior?" Zaveid said, with hurt in his voice. "Eleanor, are you telling me that I'm not cut out for this job anymore?"

Eleanor looked like a deer in headlights; her cheeks red as her hair. To not confront misbehavior in an individual who should be a paragon of morals and virtue was intolerable; to contradict one's professional senior was likewise intolerable. Eleanor was conflicted between these impossible extremes, and seemed ready to burst from strain.

"Detectives! Your captain has something to say."

They all looked warily at the front of the room, where Captain Sergei Strelka stood: back straight, shoulders squared, and patiently waiting for his team to redirect their attention to him. Captain Strelka was something of a legend on the force – Sorey had heard about him even before he was assigned to Lastonbell. He was hyper-competent, and had spearheaded the initiative to clean up Lastonbell's organized crime and drug trafficking activity. He was professional, an excellent leader, and a great public face for the department. His position was well-earned.

Sergei looked to the hand-puppet of himself that he wore on his right hand, and made it cross its arms firmly.

"I'm Cap'n Strelka, and I'm here to lead everyone in a fun-filled team-building activity at the behest of HR!"

Sorey had wondered why they'd been called into this meeting in the middle of the afternoon. He didn't wonder so much about the puppet. Not anymore, anyway. Sorey briefly wondered what it was about the position of captain that seemed to make people…like this. Sorey thought back to some of his more disturbing encounters in Ladylake. He'd watched Captain Lailah confiscate the shed skin of a Medusa-class hellion (a Class V biohazard), determined to purify it enough to mount it on her wall, all because it had dried and coiled into a curl that had captured her heart. After three days the entire station needed to be evacuated and a team in full protective gear needed to be sent in to clean up the miasmatic haze. Lailah lost her trophy to the incident, and sank into an abiding despair that lasted months.

And now here in Lastonbell he was regularly attending lectures on workplace safety and cultural sensitivity hosted by a hand-puppet.

(Early on, Captain Sergei had called Sorey into his office, and quietly asked him about how he'd been adjusting. He encouraged Sorey that he could always talk to him and the Cap'n about his feelings. Sorey thanked them both for the opportunity. Later, as he carefully turned the encounter over in his mind to come to terms with his new reality, he'd asked Mikleo why Captain Sergei seemed so familiar.

"His twin brother is the head bartender at Katz Pajamas. You probably saw me talking to him while you were there."

"…is he…does he do the hand-puppets too?"

"No, thank god."

"I bet that's kind of weird, though? You're in there cruising for hookups, and you're getting poured drinks by someone who looks like your boss."

"I've done body-shots off Boris' nipples while he was dressed like a slutty cat at the bar's Halloween party a couple years ago. We're way beyond weird.")

The team looked resigned to their fate. Zaveid forced a smile.

"Team-building! Great, let's all meet up at the nearest bar and really get our team on-"

"It's three in the afternoon!" Eleanor scolded him.

"I know a place that does all day mimosas," Zaveid explained. "I bet if you wanted to make a lunch version you could find a half-empty plastic gallon jug of orange juice and fill the rest with vodka-"

"That's just a screwdriver for people who've given up on life," Mikleo shot back.

"Team! We can go out for drinks later," Sergei assured. "But Miss Moo Cow is only booked with us for an hour before she has to go back to the park petting zoo."

The door to the meeting room opened, and a full-size dairy cow led by a person in a cow suit entered. Mikleo sprang out of his seat and inched over to the windows, all the color draining from his face. As he slunk away, Sorey stood up from his own seat and carefully trailed after him with no little concern.

"No. Not after last time," Mikleo said firmly. "No, no, no."

"Detective, I assure you that Miss Moo Cow has gone through the required sensitivity training to prevent a repeat of last year's events," Sergei said reassuringly. He gestured at Mikleo with his Cap'n-bedecked hand. "Would you like to talk with Cap'n about your feelings before we start the process of churning some delicious homemade butter?"

Mikleo was clearly not convinced, and was in the process of climbing out the window and onto the fire escape. Despite his better judgement – though homemade butter did sound nice – Sorey put on his negotiations hat and tried to talk Mikleo down.

"Mikleo, why don't I do the honors with Miss Moo Cow for you, and then we can both get churning -"

Mikleo was out and away, his footsteps clanging on the metal fire escape stairs as he headed towards the roof. Giving a sheepish smile to his teammates and a respectful nod to Miss Moo Cow and her associate, Sorey climbed out the window to follow him. As he pursued Mikleo to the rooftop, he heard the Cap'n asking who'd like to go first; and Eleanor's small, despairing affirmation.

Sorey found Mikleo seated on one of the industrial fan boxes on the rooftop; smoking a cigarette to calm his nerves down from whatever cow-based horrors had rattled them. Sorey had seen him smoke before – he thankfully wasn't a pack-a-day addict (Sorey surely would have tasted it on his tongue during their long weekend together), but he still lit up more often than Sorey liked while on the job. Sorey knew the stresses of this kind of work, and maybe smoking didn't have as bad an effect on seraphim, and Mikleo of course never did it where anyone else had to breathe it in. But when it came to Mikleo's health, Sorey couldn't…

…what he really couldn't do was anything about it, at all. Mikleo wasn't his boyfriend. They weren't in a relationship. They'd barely even established a professional connection. He was a guy he'd hooked up with over one wonderful, unforgettable weekend; he was a guy he was hopelessly hung up on. Sorey knew from the start that he was terrible at keeping things casual, at keeping feelings out of bed. And yet he dove in head-first regardless. This is what he got for ignoring his own good advice. Sorey shoved his hands into his pockets and flopped down next to Mikleo on his perch.

"So what's your beef with Miss Moo Cow?" Sorey asked jovially.

Mikleo gave him a flat look. Back in Ladylake, that kind of pun would have gotten Sorey a promotion from Captain Lailah. The times, they were a-changin'.

"I know you're not lactose intolerant, considering how many ice cream bars you can pack away."

"I prefer to not remember the incident," Mikleo said tersely. He took another drag of his cigarette, and exhaled a long, slow breath. "Suffice to say that I don't have faith I wouldn't see a repeat of it."

"Well, whatever horrors you think she's capable of, you've abandoned Eleanor and Zaveid to suffer them alone." Sorey tsked his tongue teasingly. "Hope that's not me someday."

"If and when that cow ever goes hellion? It just might be," Mikleo retorted. He stubbed out his cigarette. "That being said, rest assured that I have your back in other circumstances."

Sorey grinned wide. "Is that a date?"

Mikleo snorted, but Sorey could see a smile on his lips regardless. "You wish."

 _Text messages (4), Mileena Weiss_

 _Hi Sorey! How've you been?_

 _We've missed you here in Ladylake! (heart emoji) Ix has wanted to text you since the day you left to see how you're doing, but, well, you know him. He thinks it would just be "bothering" you. (eyeroll emoji)_

 _Captain Lailah is as elegant and graceful as ever, but I can tell she misses having you around. I bet she'd love a text or email from you sometime. If you make a beautiful lady like her cry, I'll break into your apartment at night and break the bindings on ALL your books! (knife emoji, knife emoji)_

 _The precinct's been pretty quiet lately, so maybe we can both take some time to visit you in Lastonbell. Ix has been daydreaming of going to all those museums and galleries you told him about before you left; if I don't get him there soon, he's liable to wilt away from nerd starvation. (skull emoji) Help him! Love you lots!_

Sorey read through the texts with a small, sad smile on his face. Mileena and Ix were the resident rookies on Ladylake's squad, and ever since they'd joined the team, Sorey had felt a certain kind of responsibility for them. Especially Ix, who – though showing deductive skills and proficiency with purification that rivalled many of the more seasoned squad members – was a complete and utter nervous wreck even in the best of times. Crippling indecision and heartbreakingly low self-esteem were not traits that meshed well with a career in criminal justice, no matter what skills were there to make up for it. On his especially bad days, Sorey would load him up on the back of his motorcycle and drive them both over to his favorite café and bookstore to chat about history until Ix's tension passed.

When Sorey got the notification that he was being transferred to Lastonbell, he couldn't help but be concerned at what would become of the rookie when he wasn't around…he had Mileena, of course, but there were just some things that you couldn't talk about freely with someone you had feelings for.

Sorey knew that pain. He dropped his phone to his chest and let out a sigh.

 _You:_

 _Hey guys! That sounds great, but I'm not sure if you really want to see my apartment right now…_

 _Mileena Weiss:_

 _Have you seriously not unpacked yet? It's been two weeks! What will you do if you want to bring a special someone home with you, make them sleep in a box like a cat?_

 _You:_

 _Well, if it came to that…_

 _Mileena Weiss:_

 _I swear I don't understand men honestly_

 _I'm gonna tattle on you to Captain Lailah_

 _You:_

 _Nooo. Nooooooooooooo_

 _I'll unpack soon. Promise (halo emoji) And then the two of you can come tour the city with me!_

 _Mileena Weiss:_

 _I'll hold you to that! (heart emoji)_

The twinge of homesickness in his chest eased, if only a little. Sorey paused for a long moment, gazing at the gathering clouds outside the window, at the twinkling city lights in the late night air. He tapped over to his contacts and brought up Mikleo's entry, and stared at the picture Mikleo had sent him to associate with it – before they'd found out they were coworkers, of course. Sorey was sure that Mikleo wouldn't have ever sent him a photo like this otherwise.

His naked neck, marked with Sorey's hickies, his shirt unbuttoned to show the lines of his chest, his unbound hair falling in waves down his shoulders, and just a hint of his full, soft lips. Sorey probably shouldn't still have it associated with Mikleo's contact, but he couldn't quite bring himself to disassociate the Mikleo he'd fallen into bed with, with the Mikleo he was now working alongside every day in the office. Doing that felt like giving up, and reasonably, that was exactly what he should be doing – Mikleo had rebuffed all of his advances once they'd started working together, so he clearly wasn't interested in dating a coworker. He'd have to ask Mikleo for another photo sometime. Maybe now?

It was perilously late. It is widely known that at a certain time of night, the urge to send maudlin/horny/needy texts to your crushes becomes an irresistible self-destructive directive. Sorey was caught up in this compulsion, and before he even realized what he was doing, he'd already texted Mikleo.

 _You:_

 _Hey. You still need a picture of me for your phone?_

Sorey then pulled his phone back to take a selfie; turtling his neck in an attempt to give himself as many chins as possible in the shot. He sent it over to Mikleo, and as five whole seconds ticked by without a reply, Sorey fought the urge to go curl up in the bathtub in a shame ball. Luckily or unluckily for Sorey, he didn't have to wait more than another torturous minute or so for a response.

 _Mikleo:_

 _That wasn't the kind of photo I was expecting when I saw your name, but if you insist. Have you been drinking?_

Sorey hadn't been. He didn't need to be drunk to make poor decisions in love.

 _You:_

 _drinking! The very idea_

 _What kind of man do you take me for_

 _Mikleo:_

 _The drunk kind. Go dunk your head so you're lucid for work tomorrow_

 _You:_

 _Is this the kind of thanks I get for sharing my chins with you (crying face emoji)_

Sorey didn't get a response for a minute or two, and briefly thought that Mikleo had abandoned him for the night to recover from his not-impairment. However, Sorey's phone buzzed again, and Sorey's heart skipped when he saw that it was a photo message. Swallowing hard, Sorey opened the notification.

He knew that Mikleo wore reading glasses – Sorey saw him wearing them at work, and he looked good enough in them there, but this. This was simply unfair. Mikleo had sent him a picture of himself in half-profile, leaning his chin on his hand, and giving the camera a half-lidded look over the tops of his spectacles. His hair fell over one shoulder in a loose braid that just begged to be loosened further by Sorey's fingers. He looked like he had been reading in bed when Sorey texted, and apparently slept without a shirt on. (Well, he'd slept without a shirt on at Sorey's place. But he didn't have pants on then either. Asking if the latter still held true seemed to be an inappropriate question to ask.) The dim lighting of Mikleo's room cast shadows on his features; perfectly outlining the beautiful lines of his jaw and cheekbones, and the tiny curl of those lips as they smirked at Sorey through the screen. It was no less lewd than the picture he already had of Mikleo, and Sorey felt awash in an exquisite despair.

He was getting the distinct feeling that he'd find something to fixate on no matter what picture Mikleo sent him, no matter how innocuous. He wondered if he could maybe sneak one of Mikleo while he was eating. That _might_ work to get something that wouldn't destroy him every time he looked at it.

 _You:_

 _too few chins. a B+ at best. See me after class_

 _Mikleo:_

 _I'll dispute that grade with the dean's office tomorrow, I assure you._

 _Good night. I'm sure you know to drink water before going to bed_

 _You:_

 _Of course. Partners always looking out for each other_

 _Good night_

So now Sorey had two lewd pictures, a renewed ache in his chest, and one very empty bed.

Sorey covered his face in his hand and sighed. This city was feeling lonelier than ever.


End file.
